Only Then Can You Belong To Me
by Blondegirl14
Summary: Two years after the fire destroyed the Opera House, Meg Giry seeks some sort of answer for her fascination with the mirror.  She wants answers, something to calm her desire to know the fate of Christine, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew.
1. The Value of a Room

Disclaimer: I own, unfortunately, nothing of POTO. All rights belong to whomever it was that came up with the idea in the first place, and what a genius they were. 

Author's Note: This idea for a story came into my head a few nights ago, and I've been fooling around with it ever since. I've become quiet attached to my little Meg, so of course, we have an eventual E/M pairing. The story is rated for later chapters, and you'll have to excuse the first few, as I'm just getting back into writing from a four month long writer's block.

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The mirror. How could a single pane of glass become such an object of fascination? How many times had she been punished for returning here? The room had, after all, been Christine's. In all those moments of despair and confusion, the tranquility of the room had eased the young soprano's suffering. And now, Meg Giry prayed it would have a similar effect on her. The fire had been two years prior, but the repairs to the Opera Populaire could not hide the emotional scars still left visible within the building. Two angels were lost that fateful evening, assumed to have been claimed by the waters of the cellar. The young patron of the Opera House, a man whom Meg had never gotten the chance to know. Raoul, she remembered his name with ease. He'd been so charming, and she was not above admitting that she'd secretly willed his eyes to meet her own on more than one occasion. But that had been so long ago, or so at least it seemed. His eyes had never met her's the way they met Christine's. Meg's throat tightened instinctively as her mind brushed over the name. Thinking back on it now, it was painfully obvious to her that the friendship between them seemed closer than it really had been. So many secrets had been kept silent, and there should never be secrets between friends. A single tear leaked from Meg's eyes. She wasn't the crying type, but Christine deserved the show of grief. Even though their relationship had faltered in those last few months, Meg missed her deeply. Their whispered conversations in the dead of night, and their silly laughter during rehearsals. They were fond memories tucked safely away in the back of Meg's thoughts. This room brought each memory forward, and allowed the dancer to dwell on them in silence.

Blonde ringlets hung beside her face as she bowed her head in prayer. Fate had been cruel that day to many people, but aside from allowing her to live, it had been cruel to Meg ever since. The Opera House had been closed f or a year and a half, leaving every singer, dancer, and crew member not only jobless, but homeless as well. Fortunately Meg's mother maintained a small cottage in town, but in light of the disaster, the girl had found it hard to appreciate the bed she had. In the months since the building had reopened, Meg had spent each possible moment in this room, much to her mother's displeasure. Madame Giry did not care much for grieving. She'd spent a day in solitude after the fire to honor Christine's memory. After all, the girl may as well have been her own daughter. But the next day, life went on, as it should. Meg on the other hand had been keeping mostly to herself, not like her usual social persona. It wasn't the sobbing, tear your hair out kind of grief, but rather a deeper desire to understand what had pulled Christine from her. Hence the reasoning for coming here to this particular room. It had been a sort of sanctuary for the girl, not to mention the birthplace of the famous, or rather the infamous, angel of music. Meg had never heard this "angel's" voice until the day of the fire. Rumors had been spreading the weeks before, no thanks to the crewmen's heroic tales of seeing swishing capes and glances of white masks in the darkness above the stage. But that night, everyone had seen him. The mysterious phantom had appeared before an unknowing crowd, his voice exactly as Christine had described it, angelic. The notes of the son flowed effortlessly to the rafters of the Opera House, and not a soul present was strong enough to remove their eyes from him. It wasn't until Christine, in a moment of pure desire for the man who stood before her, removed the thing black mask covering his face, revealing his identity. Surrounded by the horrified screams and shouts of the other dancers, Meg felt her knees go weak. Never in her sixteen years of life had she seen something so magnificently human. Some time later Meg remember being roused by her mother, and after scrambling quickly off the stage floor, had followed blindly after Madame Giry and the unorganized mob headed down after the phantom.


	2. Unwanted Company

Disclaimer: I read a really funny disclaimer for Phantom the other day, but I'll just keep it simple and say I don't own any of these wonderfully amazing characters.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, it's been a busy week. This next week won't be much better, but then we have a week off, so expect some updates then. Thanks to my lovely four reviewers for keeping my spirits up!

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The echo of footsteps brought young Meg from her thoughts. There was only one person who dared to venture here, and sure enough, a moment later the authoritative voice of Madame Giry could be heard.

"Meg..."

It was no longer a question, as her mother already knew exactly where to find her. All too soon the frame of the older woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs, breathing heavily and leaning most of her weight on her cane.

"I should expel you for the number of times you make me walk up and down those steps."

The words were spoken in such a tone that Meg hung her head shamefully. Her mother had certainly earned the right to be respected and listened to; Meg always felt guilty for disobeying her.

"I'm sorry Mama."

Meg's voice was soft and submissive, and Madame Giry's expression immediately quieted.

"You've been coming down here a lot my dear, but your grieving won't bring her back."

It was a sad truth to accept, but Meg knew it to be true. Rising from her kneeling position, the young dancer walked the distance to stand next to her mother.

"Mama, when I'm down here, I feel closer to her. I just... I want to understand why she came here."

Madame Giry frowned the tiniest bit, fully aware of what her daughter was getting close to. But she kept silent and allowed Meg to continue.

"Christine once spoke of an angel, her angel of music. I know it was the Opera Ghost she heard, but I still want to believe I'll hear an angel to, her angel."

Meg raised her eyes to her mother's and offered a weak smile, one which Madame Giry returned.

"I miss her too, but please, you mustn't come down here anymore Meg. It's not safe for you to be alone so often."

The woman's voice held a more motherly tone now, and although Meg knew she was trying to protect her from potential harm, she couldn't help but feel a bit angry at the restriction. She was eighteen years old, hardly young enough to be considered a girl any longer. She would respect her mother, but where she went and what she did should be of her own choosing.

"Why should it not be safe Mama? The Phantom is gone, you told me yourself. I have nothing left to be afraid of."

Madame Giry noticed the hint of anger in Meg the moment it appeared, and knew that despite her daughter's petite frame, she had a temper to match the largest of men . It didn't come out very often, but when Meg had something to say, she said it. With a commanding shake of her head, Madame Giry repeated her new rule.

"You're not to come here alone any more. There are other reasons to fear for your safety _ma fille _besides the Opera Ghost, this is something you must trust me on."

Meg tucked her little flames of anger away, knowing deep down that her mother was right, as she always was. It was not safe, nor was it proper, for a young woman of Meg's age to be wandering down in the lower rooms of an old Opera House alone. The dangers had to outweigh what little rewards they were in such an outing. But Meg wanted this closure, this one chance to bring herself closer to Christine. Was that so much to ask?

"May I have one more moment alone Mama? I promise to meet you upstairs soon, but I would like to say goodbye to what few precious memories I have."

The lie was told as smoothly as if Meg had spoken the absolute truth, but it still took a moment for Madame Giry to let down her guard and nod in agreement.

"Five minutes _ma fille_."


	3. Downward

A/N: Ok so two of my friends wanted to be included in the story, as they're both Phantom fans, so I'm going to introduce them soon. One is in this chapter, the other will be coming along shortly. I'm planning to update once a week for you guys, and thanks for reviewing and keeping me motivated! 

Disclaimer: shakes magic 8 ball Do I own the Phantom rights? And the magic 8 ball says: Heck no!

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Wheezing and coughing, Madame Giry ascended the final step and came out backstage, leaning heavily against her cane. Meg was getting too close, and unknowingly putting herself in danger. Madame Giry could still hear him at night sometimes, crying out in his despair. Ever since Christine's death, he'd been in a deep depression, most likely blaming himself for the unfortunate events.

"Madame Giry?"

The older woman turned her head and offered a smile of greeting to one of her dance pupils, Claire. She was little younger than Meg, and had come to the Opera House a year ago after running away from her home. Now Madame Giry didn't usually accept runaways, but in Claire's case, the girl's parents had made no attempt to find her. Plus she had shown quite a talent for dance. Claire and Meg had grown close in the past year, and Madame Giry watched this friendship grow with a smile, hoping that Meg's heart would heal after Christine.

"Yes my dear?"

Claire returned the smile and stepped forward closer to her dance instructor.

"I was looking for Meg, have you seen her?"

Madame Giry paused, wondering for a moment if it would be a wise move to tell Claire where Meg was. Then she would have to deal not only with her own daughter's curiosity, but with Claire's as well. The dancers had a tendency to talk among themselves, natural for girls of their age. But Madame Giry could not afford to have her entire ballet in that room.

"I'm sorry Claire, but I haven't seen her. Perhaps she went out for an errand."

When one of her students turned eighteen, Madame Giry allowed her to venture outside the Opera House for short times. Meg had reached this important milestone a few months ago, and so occasionally went out into town. Claire nodded pleasantly but was visibly disappointed.

"Thank you Madame, I shall wait for her return."

Seeking rest for her weary frame, Madame Giry headed towards her room, her mind ablaze with thoughts. Claire watched her teacher go, her curiosity building by the second. She'd seen Meg just a few minutes ago headed this way, and her traveling cloak was still hanging neatly upon its' hook. That could only mean that Meg was still inside, and that Madame Giry was either telling the truth, or she was hiding something. The moment that Meg's mother rounded the corner, Claire began to inch towards the door that concealed wherever the older woman had just come from. Really it was none of her business, but curiosity was a strong emotion, too strong for Claire to keep in check. She leaned against the door, pushing her weight against it until it swung open to reveal a steep set of stairs. Without a moment's second thought she began to descend down into the basement of the Opera House. This was where the Phantom had lived, and Claire thought it might be fun to explore it now that he was gone. It took a much shorter time for Claire to reach the bottom and the entryway to the little room.

Unknowing that she was about to have company, Meg was fighting a curiosity battle of her own. She'd been through the mirror once before, the night after Christine's first show. But she'd only gotten a few feet down the tunnel behind the double-sided pane of glass before her mother had stopped her. How Madame Giry had found her, Meg had yet to figure out. But this was her chance to figure out what exactly was down there. She had to do it, there wasn't any other options. With a slightly shaky hand she pulled back against the mirror, which stuck for a moment before sliding roughly open, revealing the dark passageway. Feeling a sudden closeness to what Christine must have felt, Meg walked through the opening. As it had been the last time, the passageway was dark and dreary. She could hear what she could only hope was water dripping from the ceiling, forming small puddles on the stone floor. Meg avoided the few left slightly visible, but still succeeded in stepping in several of them, dousing her ballet flats. The path slowly winded downwards, and Meg wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. The simple white dress she wore was no nearly enough to keep her body temperature level, and Meg now understood why the Ghost had been so mean; he was probably cold!

She'd gone further now then she had gotten before, and as she rounded a corner, another step of steep stairs spiraled downwards into darkness. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She didn't even have a candle to go by. Hesitantly she took a step forward, surprised when her foot hit solid ground. She'd half expected to fall through into the same dark abyss that Raoul and Christine had gotten trapped in. But her foot rested gingerly on the step, and she could feel its' coldness seeping through the bottom of her damp ballet flats. The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since she'd descended the passageway, and she could no longer hold back her shivers. One by one she continued down the steps, each one down was a bit less hesitant. Meg was afraid though of becoming too confident. Had she looked over her shoulder at this moment, Meg would have seen the hand reaching towards her out of the darkness, fingers extended. The cold brush of the foreign skin against her own scared Meg and she jumped, her mouth open in a scream that didn't echo far enough upwards to be heard by the rest of the Opera House.


End file.
